“Let’s not play what-if. You got us a lead. That’s what’s important.”
I checked my watch. “I’ve only got ten minutes to get to Aunt Caroline’s house-not enough time. You can bet I’ll pay for this by having to endure an extra dose of hostility. Gotta run.”
“The
“Are you implying I’m a drama queen, too?”
“Nope. You are the busiest, most headstrong person I’ve met besides my granny. Now get out of here.”
I nodded, hurried out of the offices to the elevator and jogged to my car.
My aunt lives in an older, established neighborhood with big, expensive houses, where she knows everyone on the block. And they probably know her better than she knows herself. This time of morning, the streets were wonderfully quiet compared to the frenzied freeways. But when I turned onto her street, a good twenty minutes past the time we agreed on, I saw that the chaos of an emergency had disrupted the peace.
An ambulance, a patrol car and my aunt’s open door and shattered front window made my stomach lurch. A uniformed policeman tried to wave me away, but I called out the window that my aunt lived at the address where obviously something very bad had happened. He told me to pull over to the curb.
“What’s your aunt’s name?” he asked when I met him on the sidewalk.
“Caroline Rose. Is she okay?”
Just then the paramedics pulled a stretcher out the front door and onto the walkway.
My hand went to my mouth and I pushed past the cop, starting to run toward them. Aunt Caroline’s neck was immobilized, and I could see blood on her forehead.
But when I heard her shout, “Abigail, you’re late!” I almost laughed with relief. She sounded strong, not to mention as furious as a bear with a sore ass.
The stretcher had been pulled into the ambulance before I could get to her. Then the cop caught up with me and took me by the arm.
“Please, ma’am. Your name?” he said.
“Abby Rose. I need to go with her.”
“I’m Officer Rowe. First off, they don’t much like riders in the ambulance, plus she only has minor injuries-bruises and a cut. Because of her age-”
“What about my age?” I heard Aunt Caroline shout before the smiling paramedic closed the back ambulance door.
“Anyway, you understand. We could use your help here for a few minutes. Then you can catch up with her in the ER. We need to figure out what went on here.”
“I don’t get it. She can talk. She must have told you.” Aunt Caroline may be the most irritating woman on earth ninety percent of the time, but I felt an urgent need to be with her now. She was the closet thing to a mother I’d ever had.
“Your aunt wasn’t exactly making a whole lot of sense. Maybe you can tell us if anything is missing. She kept saying, ‘He took it,’ over and over, but she never said what
I tried to clear my head as I watched the ambulance drive off. Coming upon this scene had hit me like a two-by-four upside the head, and I had trouble forming any coherent thoughts.
“Ma’am?” the officer said.
“Sorry, what?” I answered.
“Can you come inside the house?”
“Sure, yes.” But I had no idea if I could give him a clue as to what might be missing. My aunt’s goal in life is to collect as many expensive material objects as she can before she dies. She has three sets of English china, lots of silver, figurines from Germany, oil and water paintings, antique spoons-hell, antique everything. And then there was the jewelry. Diamonds and emeralds, pearls from the Orient. One of her Prada purses was probably worth a couple thousand dollars alone.
When we walked into the foyer, an older man wearing a yellow polo and khaki shorts who looked vaguely familiar was sitting on one of a matching set of padded antique benches. A female patrol officer had her notebook in hand.
Rowe said, “This is Mr. Desmond. He lives two doors down. And this is Officer Price.”
I walked over to them, nodded at the other officer and said, “Hi, Mr. Desmond. Remember me? Abby?”
He stood and took both my hands in his. “Abby, they say Caroline will be okay, so don’t you worry.”
Officer Price said, “Mr. Desmond is our hero. Sent the burglar packing.”
“This was a robbery, then? And you guys came because of an alarm?” I couldn’t imagine my aunt opening her door to a stranger. There must have been a break- in.
“Actually, Mr. Desmond called nine-one-one,” Officer Price said.
“I’m confused. What exactly happened?”
Mr. Desmond said, “Paperweight came flying through a front window while I was taking my walk. I heard Caroline scream, ‘Get away from me.’ I went to the window and saw her fending off this man using a crooked walking stick. She had blood on her head, and I yelled, ‘Hey!’ That’s when he took off-came barreling out the front door and ran down the block.”
I gestured to the left of the foyer. “This happened in her study?”
“Yes,” Rowe answered. “But Mr. Desmond doesn’t remember if the man had anything with him when he ran off. If so, it wasn’t large. I’m thinking jewelry, maybe? We found a safe in the study. You don’t happen to have the combination?”
I wanted to say, In your dreams, but settled for a simple, “No.” I walked toward the study, but Rowe said, “We’ve got a print unit coming. Please don’t enter the room. You can observe from the door-see if anything jumps out at you as missing.”
What jumped out at me was the utter disarray-the broken window, the overturned desk chair, the scattered papers, the lamp on the floor and the gnarled walking stick-a souvenir from my aunt’s trip to Ireland.
I swallowed, feeling horrible that I hadn’t been here to prevent this. Aunt Caroline had fought hard to protect herself. “Any other rooms look like this?” I asked.
“No, ma’am. Nothing else seems disturbed. I asked Ms. Rose if she disabled the alarm, and she said yes, but after that all she kept saying was like I mentioned before-that the guy took something.”
“She let this person in? Is that what you think?” I said.
“Seems that way, yes,” Rowe answered.
Officer Price said, “I’ll walk Mr. Desmond home, then head to the hospital. Maybe your aunt can tell us more once she’s calmed down. I’ll be back.”
Rowe nodded while I took Mr. Desmond’s spot on the bench. My legs felt rubbery, and I was still having a hard time making sense of this. “I don’t know if anything is missing, but I can tell you that the wall safe in the study is for things like her will, her deed. She keeps her jewelry in her bedroom safe-and that’s well hidden in her closet.”
“Anything of value in the study?” He nodded in that direction.
“Nothing. The desk is ornamental. She has a built-in desk in the kitchen where she keeps her checkbook and bills.”
“Yeah, I noticed that. Her checkbook is still there, and so is her purse with all her credit cards.”
“Maybe the robbery had just started when Mr. Desmond interrupted,” I said, half to myself.
“Unless your aunt was totally confused when she talked to me, whatever this guy took got her very upset.”
I didn’t want to disappoint him by pointing out that if the burglar took so much as a paper clip, Aunt Caroline would be upset. Before I could say anything more, the print unit arrived.
“Do you need me for anything else?” I asked as the two newest officers shuffled in and waited for Rowe’s instructions.
“Not now. Get to the hospital.” He told me Aunt Caroline had been taken to Methodist.
Before I left, I grabbed her purse from the kitchen, thinking she’d need her insurance card. I considered calling Kate, but I decided to wait until I had a better idea about Aunt Caroline’s condition.
I shouldn’t have worried about her health. When I was led to Aunt Caroline’s curtained cubicle in the ER, I found her as feisty as ever, complaining about the service.
She had a few strips on the gash near her hairline, a wound that had rusted her snowy hair. The hospital gown couldn’t hide the purple bruises on her arms or the dried blood streaks on her neck. Good thing there were no mirrors in here.
Officer Price was with her, and I recognized the look on her face. I’d probably worn that same frustrated expression more than once after an hour with Aunt Caroline.
Price stood. “Glad you’re here. Your aunt isn’t willing to talk, and the longer she remains silent, the harder our job gets. Of course, perhaps she doesn’t remember much.”
“What do you think I am? Senile? I remember. But I will
I closed my eyes, sighing heavily. “Please tell the officer everything you know.”
Aunt Caroline folded her arms across her chest. “No.”
“That’s it,” Price said, clearly irritated. “I’ve offered to interview your aunt in a more private area, and she is an unwilling witness at this time. She wants to file a report, fine. She’s got my card.”
She walked out, and God, how I wanted to go with her. “That woman was trying to help you.”
Aunt Caroline closed her eyes, and I could tell her demeanor had completely changed. “I know. The police and the paramedics were wonderful, but I had to make her leave.”
“What?”
“You don’t understand. I’m being released. When that girl with the clipboard comes back with my paperwork, take me home and I’ll explain.”
“Are you crazy? You’re not going home. You can stay with me until-”
“If you want to find out what happened and why, Abigail, you will take me home.”
